


Sanctuary

by Khiori63



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 22:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15616146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khiori63/pseuds/Khiori63
Summary: Our routine diplomatic mission, Kirk and Spock find themselves caught up in ancient rites and rituals that prove detrimental to both.





	Sanctuary

 

Words rarely spoken echoed down the vast, dark chamber. Flickering light from torches set into the dank walls illuminated the black-robed figures aligned in a rough circle in the middle of the room. Hooded and silent, they watched as the figure they surrounded raised its arms in a sweeping gesture, as called for in the ancient ritual.  
　  
The alter before it was draped not in the midnight black material customary for most rituals; rather, soft, billowing, snow-white cloth rested in its place. Such change was necessary, for the blood that was soon to be spilled needed to be clearly visible, as it was to stand as proof the ruin of that which was once pristine. Nestled in its folds lay tonight's sacred offering, carefully chosen to please the gods for whom they had gathered to honor.  
　  
For the figure standing at the alter, this ritual was of particular importance, as it was the same as those once overseen by his father. It was at such a ceremony many years ago that his sire bestowed upon him the status he still held today, one which entitled him to appease the gods by means of the ancient ways.  
　  
No, that was not quite true. If his father ever became aware of what he was about to do, he would be more than a little displeased. In fact, he would be furious. For like so many others, his father had capitulated to the whims of today’s more “civilized” society, willingly foregoing the more disreputable and notorious aspects of these most time-honored rituals. His father deemed those changes necessary in order to insure such ceremonies were kept in conjunction with the moral compass embraced by the current populance.  
　  
He thought back to that day when he was witness firsthand to those changes. With complete disregard for the ancient practices, his father brought to the alter what was clearly a willing "sacrifice". The young woman chosen was, as custom dictated, a virgin, however, she showed no reluctance to participate and, in fact, had eagerly done so. She even had the audacity to derive great pleasure and sexual gratification from a ritual that was originally designed to induce neither.  
　  
He shook his head. He had learned much that day, although the knowledge gained was not which his father intended. His father’s goal was undoubtedly to show his son that the ancient ways could survive, even thrive in modern days so long as they did no harm and in some ways, he had been proven correct. Due to his father’s efforts, those holding similar status as he himself could continue performing the ancient rituals without fear of incurring the wrath of society.

Still, he considered the changes his father instigated to be unmitigated failure. If anything, they had only proven that such time-honored traditions should not be tampered with, for by doing so they become meaningless, nothing more than empty gestures practiced by empty souls. By accepting those changes, his brethren had allowed modern society to smother them, to the point where they would never know the true nature of these traditions as set forth by their ancestors.

But not he. He, Khonor, keeper of the old ways, would never be bound by society's decrees when it came to the sacred traditions. If such traditions decreed that some must suffer, then so be it. Society be damned.  
　  
So it was that he and his most faithful were gathered here this night. For all present had sworn there would be no deviation from this, the most ancient of rituals. It would be done in the highest form of invocation possible. Every gesture, every word, every action would be precise, perfect, aligned, as it was always meant to be. Right down to the unwilling sacrifice itself.  
　  
He allowed no emotion to show on his face as he studied the lean form spread out on the alter. It was beginning to show minute signs of awareness, shifting slightly on the hard slab, limbs tugging weakly at the bonds holding it in place. Its movements caused the top of the thin, white ceremonial gown to pull downward, exposing a soft, green-tinged nipple.  
　  
_it appears you have decided to join us, little one. W_ hile it was evident the heavy sedative previously administered was wearing off, it was also evident the being under his gaze was still not aware enough to understand what was about to happen. No matter. Its cooperation was not necessary or even desired in order to carry out the ceremony.  
　  
As Khonor recited the final line of the spell, a number of the acolytes began shifting nervously and a slight muttering arose. He paid them no mind, for he knew that while some of them were uneasy about what was soon to come, they would remain. Or suffer the consequences.  
　  
Slowly, deliberately, Khonor smoothed back the offering's dark hair with one hand, exposing the delicate tip of one pointed ear.  _Little o_ _ne, if only you knew  how perfect a choice you are.  Unbelieving except for logic and reason, innocent and chaste where it matters most. The gods will be most pleased._  
　  
Unable to resist, Khonor ran his fingers along the exposed collarbone before trailing down to encircle the nipple. The being that lay before him, a Vulcan male in his prime, gave a small moan and tried to pull away from his touch. The thin gossamer material clinging to his body enhanced his vulnerability, causing the first stirrings of arousal in Khonor. He welcomed the sensation. It was not only pleasurable, but also necessary if the ritual was to proceed as custom demanded.

Without warning, the Vulcan suddenly came alive, thrashing and moaning, head tossing back and forth, chains binding wrists and ankles bouncing and clanging against the alter. Khonor ran his hands soothingly up and down the flailing arms, in what was almost a reassuring gesture. It seemed to work as the Vulcan gradually ceased his struggles and sank back down into the soft folds of fabric. There he remained, motionless except for the occasional spasmodic shudder and slight shifting of limbs.

After uttering a few more words of symbolic prose, Khonor gestured at one of the attendees, who immediately retrieved a small bowl and held it out to him. He dipped two fingers into the gray, paste-like substance it contained, coating them thoroughly. He slid them easily into the lax mouth, tickling the back of the throat. Instinctively the Vulcan began suckling the thick digits, his Adam’s apple bobbing rhythmically up and down as he swallowed the potent aphrodisiac that would ensure his participation in the ceremony.

Khonor stepped back, waiting expectantly. Within a few moments, the Vulcan's breathing became heavy and labored as the potion began to take effect. Soon the skin became flushed with a layer of verdant green, enhanced by a thin sheen of sweat. Khonor noted the ceremonial gown was now tented over the groin as the Vulcan's member hardened and began to rise.

The effects of the aphrodisiac became even more evident as the Vulcan gave a tiny, mewling cry and drew his knees to his chest, the heavy chains fastened around his ankles dragging along the hard surface of the alter, his actions parting the gown and exposing his lengthening cock. Hands reached toward his groin, only to be stopped short by the chains clamped around his wrists. He moaned in frustration, shifting against the alter, legs opening and closing, hips thrusting upward as he desperately sought relief from his growing arousal.

Khonor stepped onto the alter and grabbed both ankles, pushing the legs forward and out, leaving the offering wide-spread and open beneath him. He was well-aware of the image he made - an imposing, dark beast possessing great strength and will, hovering over a quivering mass of helpless flesh barely in possession of its faculties. The acolytes in residence would no doubt be suitably impressed.

Releasing his grip, he took hold of the thin robe clinging tightly to the Vulcan's body. With one swift motion, he ripped it in half, exposing the pale, glistening skin of the chest and stomach. Both nipples were now standing stiff and hard, another sign the potion was having its desired effect. Khonor pulled the ruined gown away and tossed it on the floor. He then ran a finger along the now-turgid organ and nodded in satisfaction as it rose even higher, a drop of pre-cum appearing at the tip. He took hold and began pumping gently; introducing the virgin sacrifice to desires and pleasures it had never known before. Rather than welcoming his touch, however, the Vulcan tried to jerk away, the chains banging and clattering against the alter as legs weakly kicked out in protest. Khonor nodded in approval. Ritual demanded the virgin offering be an unwilling one and this one was certainly showing no desire to cooperate.

As Khonor continued to stimulate the flesh that was growing harder with each stroke, he glanced toward the head of the alter.

The Vulcan's eyes were open, staring into his own.

Khonor grinned as he noted the glassy, panicked look in the dark orbs. The Vulcan was obviously stressed - not surprising considering his circumstance. Torn between the hereto unknown throes of arousal and the knowledge he was captive and helpless, unable to stop or flee his tormentor, his drug-addled brain simply could not comprehend what was about to happen next as the same robed figure approached with another small bowl. Khonor dipped a finger into the warm oil it contained, swirling the digit about until it was well-coated. Then, with little ceremony, he thrust it into the tight virgin hole, just as tradition demanded. The Vulcan threw his head back and howled, thrashing wildly as Khonor expertly manipulated the soft, tender flesh of the inner channel, introducing the offering to a whole new array of sensation.

Khonor then withdrew his finger, relishing in the sharp cry of protest that followed. He quickly stripped off his heavy robe and tossed it aside. Underneath he was nude, his skin, darkened by inheritance, reflecting in the meager, gleaming light. Khonor grasped the offering's thin hips, easily raising the slim buttocks to the level of his groin. The head of his cock, thick and heavy with need, poked at the puckered entrance. This time the muscles surrounding the hole were clenched tight against him. The Vulcan was now still, his body tense, his breath coming in harsh gasps. No doubt he was preparing for battle in an effort to defend and protect that which was about to be ruthlessly torn away.

But it was all for naught. Without warning, Khonor slammed his hips forward, his cock plowing through soft, tender flesh. He began thrusting as the Vulcan, taken by surprise, gave a loud, anguished cry as the stiff, engorged member easily breached his last defenses and tore away his innocence.

It was all some of the onlookers could do to keep from whispering to each other, voicing either revulsion or fascination at the sight before their eyes. Some looked away while others stared, taking in the spectacle of their leader forcefully copulating with an innocent as tradition demanded.

For its part, the offering seemed to have surrendered to its fate. It now lay limp and motionless as their lord continued to pound into it. Perhaps it was instinct that guided the offering now, something primal that told it the pain would be minimal if it just remained still and accepted the violation of its body, even as the thrusts became harder and more frenzied with each passing moment.

That surrender gave way to a loud cry as a hand gripped its cock again. The thighs immediately parted, the lean body arching upward to meet their lord's rhythmic thrusts, the offering's vocalizations now reduced to tiny whimpers and moans.

As Khonor approached climax, he glanced down, drinking in the vision that filled his gaze. The Vulcan beneath him was a picture of both resistance and need as he fought that which his body so desperately craved. A few final thrusts, then Khonor stiffened, a loud moan escaping his lips as his seed spilled freely inside the virgin offering that was now virgin no longer. As he withdrew, semen and blood bubbled out of the pulsating hole to dribble down the thighs and stain the pristine cloth. Just as custom decreed.  
  
Khonor stepped back and after donning his robe, paused to examine the results of his efforts. A bright green stain continued to spread right where he had stood between the Vulcan's thighs. Shifting his gaze upward, Khonor noted while the offering’s member remained hard, there was a distinct absence of any semen. He frowned. The ritual was not complete until both he and the offering achieved climax.

Retrieving the bowl containing the paste, he once again dipped his fingers into the thick substance. This time, however, the Vulcan, who was now much more lucid, turned his head away from the proffered digit. But since he did not have the luxury of refusing, Khonor merely nodded to the attendant nearby. The acolyte stepped forward, grabbed the Vulcan's jaws, and wrenched them apart. Khonor ignored the cry of pain and protest, just as he ignored the gagging and choking that followed as he thrust his fingers deep down the throat.

Unable to breath, the offering had little choice but to swallow the thick paste. Within moments, he was writhing uncontrollably, loud cries filling the room as his penis once again became rock-hard and began drooling pre-cum. Khonor grasped the thick organ with the intention of bringing the Vulcan to orgasm, only to jerk his hand away just in time to avoid the spray of semen that streamed through the air and splattered all over the offering’s groin and stomach. At the same moment, the Vulcan gave a loud, anguished moan and arched his back as his eyes rolled in the back of his head until only the whites were showing. Seconds later, his body went limp as he slumped back, unconscious.

Whether that was the result of sensory overload from his first climax or the residual effects of the sedative mattered little. The Vulcan's unwilling participation in his deflowering was exactly as the ancient rituals demanded. Khonor could not have chosen better.

Once again he beckoned to the attendant, who quickly handed Khonor a small, white towel. As custom also decreed, he used it to thoroughly clean the soiled buttocks and thighs until it too was stained with the evidence of the Vulcan's stolen innocence. He unlocked the manacles binding the sacrifice to the alter, paying no heed to the significant bruising they left behind. As required, the others gathered close, communally delivering a final chant. As their voices droned on, Khonor carefully wrapped the Vulcan in the ceremonial cloth draping the alter, its pristine whiteness marred by the smears of blood and semen. He gathered the limp form close, lifting it up and cradling it against his chest. He glanced down. The Vulcan looked strangely peaceful, his appearance almost reminiscent of an infant safely asleep in its mothers arms.

Followed by the others, Khonor carried his prize out of the chamber to a small chamber just beyond. Here the sacred offering would undergo the final preparations before being released to the mercy of the gods.

Entering the room, he laid the Vulcan down on the plain stone table. He leaned over the insensate form, stroking the smooth brow in a parody of affection.  _You pro_ _ved yourself worthy, little one. The gods will look down on you in favor._

He straightened and turned to an acolyte standing nearby. “We will continue the ceremony in one hour. Administer the paralytic and alert the others."

Without a backward glance, he exited the room.

 


End file.
